Sundays at Tiffany's - James Patterson [30]
I slipped it onto the third finger of my right hand. Whew! I felt like a real grown-up. It practically made my wrist clunk down on the counter. It was truly, truly stunning. A Celebration ring indeed.
“It fits you perfectly. It won’t even have to be sized,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper.
I had been to Tiffany’s enough to believe that the man in the gray suit standing next to me, the man pretending to be looking at diamond rings also, was a security guard. Did I look suspicious? Dangerous? I could only wish.
“What’s the price on this?” I asked, feeling my heart lurch.
She whispered, “Thirteen thousand.” Somehow she made that number sound like an unbelievable steal.
I calmly said, “I’d like to buy it.”
As if she heard that statement every ten minutes, the saleswoman said, “Of course.”
I handed her my credit card and IDs. The transaction went quickly, and yes, Virginia, there’s a reason for that.
After reading my driver’s license, the saleswoman asked, “Are you by any chance related to Vivienne Margaux?”
“She’s my mother.”
The saleswoman let out a knowing “I see” and within a few minutes I was standing out on Fifth Avenue, the diamond facets on my hand catching the sun just perfectly.
I sneaked a look at my hand as I began walking downtown. I waited for the traffic light to change. I sneaked another look at my hand.
Then I glanced to my left.
There it was.
Just as inviting as Tiffany’s.
Thirty-three
“THE ST. REGIS! I love the St. Regis,” Claire said as she and Michael turned the corner of 55th Street and the hotel was revealed. He had picked her up at the place she shared with another model near Bryant Park. Then they had walked north on Sixth, then Fifth. He’d kidded that maybe he could buy her a little something at Tiffany’s: another weird Jane memory popping into his head.
“Are you rich, Michael?” Claire asked, laughing.
“In spirit only,” he said. Actually, all he had to do was snap his fingers, and he had most of what he wanted. Literally. Snap! And some cash would appear in his pocket. He didn’t know how it happened, but why fight it? Anyway, Michael’s needs were few; the simple life suited him best.
“Can we go in?” asked Claire.
“Absolutely. We love the St. Regis!”
And suddenly there it was, right in front of him: the Astor Court. Everything about the hotel restaurant seemed to have changed; and yet everything seemed exactly the same. Women in designer outfits, dads treating their kids to lunch, whole families attacking petits fours and Napoleons, tarts and crème brûlées.
“Will that be two?” the maître d’ asked.
“Please. Two,” said Michael, feeling his pulse racing just a little. Now, why would that be? It wasn’t as though he’d see Jane here. Not even eight-year-old Jane.
He and Claire were seated at an intimate table for four, and within moments someone swept away the two extra settings.
“This is fabulous!” said Claire. “Somehow I’ve never been here, after five years in New York.”
Michael smiled at her, glad he could give her this pleasure. His eyes examined every aspect of the room. It almost did seem to have been frozen in time. The music playing was “Love in Bloom,” the trolley was piled high with desserts, porcelain trays were full of tea sandwiches.
Except that there was no imaginary friend eating melon, no eight-year-old girl devouring coffee ice cream with fudge sauce. It was as if the stage had been set, but one of the most important characters hadn’t shown up.
Jane was missing from the scene.
What was he doing? Trying to recapture some of the happiest afternoons of his life. With Claire de Lune as a standin for a sad, brave, amazing girl who had kept his heart when he’d left her behind. He looked at Claire. “Is this okay?” he asked.
She beamed. “Of course! I love it, Michael! Any girl would. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a girl.”
He swallowed. “Yeah, well, I did notice that.”
Thirty-four
THE HEADY RUSH of spending a fortune on a ring that could be used as a spotlight from a space station was starting to fade, leaving me a little jittery. Like any self-respecting